muse: the strange algebra of the heart.

[coronaviridae]

Title: Strange Algebra of the Heart
Date: 18 February 2002
Players: Abernathy (logging), Dr. Nathan Xiang (Melissa)
Summary: When another of Xiang's 'creatures' shows up on the steps of the United Nations dome, Interpol is rightfully distressed...but this time, the 'gift' turns out to be quite different from what most were expecting. Especially Abernathy.

Seoul - United Nations Plaza

It is here that most of the world's decisions are made. The kind of power here reflects in the architecture, with the HUGE UN building that holds the General Assembly. Blue and dome shaped in design, it is the only one in the world of its kind, and workplace to the thousands that work here. The perimeter of the General Assembly building is surrounded the flags of every country that has a seat, which is nearly everyone. Outside are a number of other large office buildings, ranging from delegate bureau's, to the Headquarters of the UN Police, to a Repliforce office. Constantly patrolled and guarded by UN Police, safety is among an utmost concern after the infamous April Fools Day Massacre. Despite that, the place is a very safe environment.

Dr. Nathan Xiang [C] Terra Trunk's Orchard [TTR]
United Nations Vehicle Garages [UNVG] Press Stand


[UN] leads to United Nations Building.
East [E] leads to Seoul - Northern Commercial District.
West [W] leads to Seoul - Tourist District.
South [S] leads to Seoul - Historical District.
North [N] leads to Seoul - Eastern Residential District.


The mess of a couple days ago has mostly been scrubbed from the pavement in front of the UN building. There's still the faintest hint of rotting dead things in the air - the scent smeared itself into the permacrete fairly well, and it probably won't go completely away until the rainy season. But the guards have resigned themselves... but now something completely different approaches the gate. Alone, unattended... a young child of indeterminate sex, dressed in rags, ambles towards the gate.

It looks to be maybe four to six years old, and is dressed in tattered black rags. It walks up to the nearest guard, and tugs on a sleeve. "Mister?" The voice is high and sweet - and female. As she moves, one might see hints of gleaming metal here and there under the rags. "Mister, can you help me find somebody?"

Now, the Interpol guards keeping watch over the plaza had been on hyper-alert -- and who could blame them, with all the strangeness that had been wandering through their turf during the past weeks? But the appearance of a child -- now, that was a different matter entirely. Call it the typical softhearted reaction many 'professional' combat types seemed to evince toward kids; or maybe it's just the fact that she's rather obviously NOT a machine of death and destruction, but the guard seems almost relieved when he glances down at the waif tugging on his sleeve. His expression goes through puzzlement -- to pleasant surprise and a little worry, all in the few moments it takes him to process the kid's appearance.
He hunkers down, to be on a level with the little girl, and smiles at her in a reassuring way. "Sure, honey -- who're you looking for?" His concerned gray gaze takes in her ragged appearance -- there were street-kids in Seoul, but most of them didn't come wondering through here often. Was she an officer's kid, maybe? But why the rags? Curiouser and curiouser ...

The little girl releases her hold on his sleeve, and sticks a surprisingly clean - actually, she's very clean, and the rags are also clean - finger in her mouth and looks thoughtful for a moment. Then she smiles slightly. "Mister... Aber... Abernathy. Docter said I was 'posed to ask for Mister Abernathy." She nods her head in a definitive manner. And this close the guard can probably see that her eyes aren't normal - instead of normal irises... her's appear to be silver. Real silver in color.

She pushes her mop of hair back a bit, and smiles at the guard again. "Can you tell Mister Ab..Abernathy that I'm here?"

Now, /that/ is definitely weird. Even the few kids who did sometimes wander through looking for handouts, never went -- well, that far up the ladder of rank in trying to get attention. The guard looks taken aback at her request, his expression even more puzzled. No doubt the appearance of her eyes only adds to that extreme puzzlement. "The Director? I ... uh." He glances back over his shoulder, calling into the guard post, "Hey, Greg! This kid says someone sent her t'see the boss. Is he even in?"
"The boss? I'll check."
The guard turns back to their unusual visitor, giving her another curious once-over. The usual cleanliness doesn't go unnoticed. "Who's the doctor, honey? Why does he want you to come see the boss?"

The child pulls her hand out of her mouth again, and self-consciously wipes it on the rags. "I call him Docter X. 'cause I can't pronounce his real name right." She tilts her head slightly to one side and gives another of those sweet smiles - she has perfect teeth by the by. "He signed me - said I was a... mas.. mas... one of his best work things ever!" She pulls the collar of her shirt slightly to one side. And nestled between her shoulder blade and her neck is a neat tiny symbol.

The Yin-Yang, with the oruborus surrounding it. In red dye tattooed in. "He said... I c'n only tell Mister Abernathy why I'm here... but to promise you I'm not 'splosive, or nothing gross like that. You c'n check... er, scanner me to make sure. Yeah."

The guard leans in, listening attentively -- but when she reveals the tattoo, and the moniker she uses for the guy who sent her, he gets the most incredible poleaxed expression on his face. It's the 'oh crap!' look, only a little more extreme. After all, the name 'Dr. Nathan Xiang' had been a hiss and a byword in Interpol's hallways since his escape earlier in the month. Anything that even so much as /smacked/ of his work was enough to make any sane person who'd seen the security footage just a little jumpy. And that symbol looked familiar, in that bad way. "Y ... okay. Y-you just stay here, honey, okay? We'll see about that."
He straightens up, backing away as one would from a live bomb, before glancing over his shoulders with obvious distress in his eyes. "Hey, Greg? Better hurry it up, and get a scanner crew out here. Th ... She's one of /Xiang's/."
"The /hell/?"
"Yeah! Just ... call 'em, okay?"
This nervous little interchange completed, he turns back to her and struggles to smile reassuringly. Somewhere across the plaza, the scanner team is busy scrambling. "All right. We're just going to bring the scanner team over right now, okay? Just ... stay right there." Don't explode, or grow tentacles, or anything like that.

The little girl does nothing of the sort. She hums a little song - sounds like a snatch of a lullaby - and kicks at a bit of dust on the pavement. Swinging around a bit, like a normal six year old. As opposed to one who just sent grown military men into a panic. "'kay!" Getting bored with kicking the ground, she sits down and yawns cutely. "So you're gonna scan me, and then.. I cn' talk ta' Mister Abernathy?"

Well, she IS sending grown men into something very like a panic. The guard continues to watch her behaving -- much like a normal kid, his expression flickering between that strained attempt at a smile and a very worried look. Meanwhile, his partner in the guardhouse momentarily abandons his post, to come see the kid that's causing so much fuss. " ... Huh. She doesn't /look/ dangerous," he finally mutters, in an undertone.
"Yeah. But ... they say this Xiang guy is worse than DeVry, you know? Some people say he's a human Maverick." The rumors were already spreading, apparently.
Meanwhile, the team with the scanner cart comes clattering across the plaza, escorted by a couple of troopers in SWAT gear. No pains spared, apparently, when it came to little girls threatening the safety of the free world. They arrive just as the girl gets around to asking her question.
The head scanner-tech, a woman with soulful brown eyes, takes one look at the two nervous men 'guarding' the girl, and arches a brow in silent inquiry. The more recent arrival -- 'Greg' -- gives a tiny shrug of his shoulders, and jerks his head toward his partner, as if to say, 'talk to him about it'. The unfortunate guard sighs, looking down at the girl and replying, "Th ... that's how it's supposed to go, I guess."
He then looks over at Greg, lowering his voice to an undertone. "You DID check t'see if the Director's in, right?"
Meanwhile, the scanner-tech is moving in to round up her 'charge'. "Hey there, sweetheart," she says, voice just shy of patronizing. "We're here to check you out so you can go see the Director. Can you come over here to the cart?" SHE does not seem to be afraid that she's going to be dealing with a sudden, messy disaster on her hands.

The little girl looks up into the eyes of the woman. "Hello, pretty lady." She nods in the sage manner of polite children everywere, and then goes back to ignoring the silly adults doing there adult things. Because something far more interesting has happened - a ladybug has landed on her finger. This is far more important than being scanned. "I s'pose..."
The little girl clambers to her feet, and shakes off the ladybug before following the woman towards the cart. "Oh. Your scanner isn't as good as Doctor X's. His is all big and shiny, with lots of glass n' tubes... and it makes funny noises when it's turned on, too." She demonstrates by giving a very good imitation of an agonized shriek. "He says the noises are what happens when people are bad. So I was very good." She looks up with her dazzling smile, and odd eyes.

Greg's partner, already nervous enough from the whole situation, jumps a good couple of inches when the little girl shrieks. The rest of the guards smirk, and Greg himself elbows him the ribs. There's a nervous titter at his expense, before everyone falls silent again, watching the scanner-tech go to work on her little charge.
She doesn't seem at all disconcerted by this. Must be a mom, or an older sister. "Uh-huh," she acknowledges, to the girl's words. Of course, she's a little distracted -- pulling various paddles and wands off the equipment on the cart, calibrating equipment with a practice flick or two of her hands. Her assistant, a springhare reploid, is warming up the miniature mass spectrometer on the lower rungs of the cart, humming to himself as he does so.
Finally, she turns to the kid, smiling cheerfully. "I'll bet that Doctor X has a permanent emplacement," she says. "This little baby is just a mobile cart; it can't be too big or fancy or we'd never get it anywhere. Can you hold out your arms for me, sweetie?"
And with that, and further reassuring instructions, she steps the girl through a briskly efficient -- and thorough -- scan.

The little girl moves in a rather practiced... and bored fashion. She doesn't move when she shouldn't and holds in just the right position for each step of the scanning. While stuff is charging or being moved, she does what any child her age would do - she fidgets. She doesn't ask when they're done. She just nods when they finish, and steps out of the way. "See? Tole you. I'm not 'splosive. So c'n I see Mister Abernathy now? I wanna tell him Doctor X's message..."
She yawns again, with a cute little squeak noise at the end of it. She also makes a face at Greg's partner, and giggles at him. "Scared you?"

The springhare reploid twitches his fluffy tail, humming to himself as he hovers over the mass-spec. The scanner-tech, meanwhile, seems delighted by the girl's compliance to the scanning procedures. Most ADULT humans were a lot less obedient. "Yes, sweetie, that's right. We're just waiting for one -- " *BLEEP* goes the mass-spec, the springhare popping up to catch the readout and read it to himself aloud.
"Mm, mm, carbonandhydrogenand ... hmm, hmm siliconandalittleironandhere'salineforsodium ... " He frowns to himself, tilting the paper to one side and examining the elemental lines. Finally, he says, "Looksgood,boss! She'sclean!" and wads the printout up with an expression of deep satisfaction with himself. The scanner-tech grins, and finishes: "Test. Okay, I think we can get the Director out here -- right?" She gives Greg and his partner another of those arched-brow looks.
Both look sheepish, and Greg's partner even gives the girl an abashed grin as she teases him. "Yo," Greg finally says. "I called 'im. Lemme go let 'im know it's safe, all right?"
He starts back toward the guardhouse --
Only to draw up short in surprise as a quiet, familiar voice cuts across the relieved chatter of the group. "That won't be necessary, officer." Looks like Abernathy has taken his own initiative, as the Director comes striding up to peer curiously over the scanner-tech's shoulder. Oo, look at all the shiny lights and buttons. "I trust you've all been quite polite to our, ah -- " Then he catches sight of the little girl on the other side of the cart from him, and blinks. " -- guest," he finishes, with barely a hitch.
Startled, the guards and scanner crew snap to a raggedy attention. The springhare, more startled than most, attempts to salute with the wadded-up printout, and instead sends it rolling across the plaza. Abernathy, for his part, merely gives the heavens an appealing look and waits for the formalities to be over.
"Yessir," Greg's partner finally replies, coming out of the salute. "We've been good. She has, too."

The little girl watches all of this activity with rapt fascination, and then giggles at the Reploid when he tosses paper all over the place. "Silly robot." Then she straightens up, tugs at the hem of her rags, and marches over to Abernathy. She gazes up at him, checking the color of his skin, and then nods to herself.
"Hello, Mister Abernathy. My name is Melissa." She gives him a cute little smile. "Doctor X said you needed somebody to look out for... so he fixed me up, and sent me to you. He talked lots about me being... uhm... in no sense... or s'mthing. So." She holds up her arms to Abernathy. "You get to be my Daddy now, 'kay?"
"We can be... sy borg netic... toghether!" concludes Melissa, still holding her arms up for Abernathy.

Remember that 'holy crap!' expression Greg's partner had earlier? Yes?
It's back. Everyone's wearing it. Especially Abernathy, who looks rather like someone ran by and smacked him in the back of the head with a two-by-four. The silence following Melissa's announcement of her name and reason for being in the plaza stretches on for seconds, only interupted by the springhare -- clueless little fellow -- snuffling aggrievedly over being called a 'silly robot'.
The scanner-tech is the first one to break the silence, leaning over and elbowing her boss in the ribs. "Mr. Director, sir," she says, in a stage whisper. "I think your, uh, daughter wants a hug."
The entire group breaks down in giggles -- except for Abernathy, who is still wearing that remarkably stunned look. He snaps out of it as the giggling carries on, and gives those assembled a quelling /look/. All right, so it was funny in a sort of sad way, but that didn't mean they had to start giggling like a gaggle of preteens over it. Finally, he gives a little shake of his head, clears his throat, and blinks once. "Ah, Melissa." Pause. He sidles around the cart, and goes down on one knee in front of her. "I'm ... " Words fail him, briefly. "Uh." Blink.
Another fit of snickering arises from the crowd, along with a whispered, "anyone got a camera?"

Somewhere, in the very backmost irreverent corner of Abernathy's mind, a little tiny voice says, 'Oo! A dependent! That means more tax rebates!'

Melissa completely ignores more of the giggling by the adults. This isn't giggleworthy stuff. It's real stuff, and it's important - and you know there's no one more serious than a six year old with a mission. Abernathy kneels down, which puts him in reach. So she wraps her arms around his neck and gives him a hug. Then she steps back and gives him the look of pure innocence with just a hint of sadness there. "Please? Docter X said he wouldn't make a good Daddy, but that you would. I don't want to go back to where I was living. It hurt, and was dark all the time. And Doctor X talked about you, and you sound really neat - cause you get to shoot bad people n' stuff - and you need someone like me, kay?"

She leans in again and wraps her arms around his neck again. "Please?"

To say that this move on Melissa's part surprises Abernathy further would be innaccurate -- it would be very difficult to surprise the Director any more than he already is. And, like it or not, he did set himself up for getting glomped by the six year old.
And, in his years of being both a UN soldier and a UN diplomat, there are few tactics dirtier on or off the battlefield than those employed by young children.
Abernathy makes a surprised little noise as he's hugged, stiffling any other response with his usual alacrity as she lets go of him. Hearing that description of him -- Xiang's, though who knows how distorted it might have gotten in the translation -- seems to keep him silent, still trying to digest the ... the ... mess, that this was.
His home life is not exactly the most conducive to child-rearing, after all. And he wouldn't be a very good father. And what about the potential damage he could do to such a fragile young psyche? To say nothing of the assassination attempts, and his already precarious position in the world, and the possibility of everything changing in a heartbeat, and ... he swallows, nervously, trying to gather up the few little shattered thoughts left in his mind and push them into something vaguely resembling sentences. These doubts were not something you could explain to a little kid, though he could certainly try ...
Except that she decides to latch on again. He blinks again in startlement, then closes his eyes with the expression of a man about to do something he feels he'll very much regret -- and hugs her back. "Melissa," he finally stammers. "I ... I don't know what Xiang has told you about me, but my life -- I can't -- it wouldn't be /good/ for me to raise you; I don't have a family, or ... it's dangerous ... "
And the crew, sensing the gravity of the situation outweigh the humor has quieted, watching with a collected guilty expression. The sort one gets when wondering if one shouldn't be watching something like this.

Melissa is not letting go. She leans her head against Abernathy's shoulder and tries to burrow up closer to the Director of Interpol. "S'better than growing up... where I grew up. I... dun have a family either. An... an' you've got all these people who's job is being safe for you, n' stuff." She sniffles quietly into Abernathy's shoulder. "Doc X didn't tell me much... just that he.. fixed me. So I could... make you stop being lonely and... so I could have a chance to... he got all funny about it. Something about 'fire n' tests n' stuff, but I don't care." The sniffling is continuous, and Abernathy's shoulder is probably getting damp now. "I don't want to go back. Doc X fixed me... but he.. he's scary. N' you're not. Please.... Please be my Daddy?"

Anyone who was under the impression that Abernathy wasn't scary either hadn't seen him at his worst -- or just found that 'worst' couldn't hold a candle to how bad the world out there could actually get. None of what Melissa says is exactly -- promising, or soothing, or anything remotely like that. In fact, given the debacle earlier this evening over a thing like Xiang's /research/ not being destroyed, how much worse could it be to accept a gift, even a sentient one -- especially a sentient one -- from the man's hands?
If Melissa even was a gift. But the scanner crew seemed to have proven she certainly wasn't a weapon, so what else was there?
Abernathy's grip on her tightens, slightly, as he heaves a quiet sigh. Well. There were two paths here. One was outright cruel, and the other was stupid.
Nobody'd ever accused the boy of smarts, though. Not after treating with Procyon. Besides, whispers that battered little scrap of optimism still lurking in his thoughts, they could make this work. Maybe.
"I ... all right, Melissa. I'll be your daddy."
And only time would tell if that was the right choice.

Melissa doesn't do anything silly like bounce around shouting 'Yay'. Instead she just holds onto Abernathy that much tighter, burying her face in his shoulder. "Thank you, Daddy." Only then does she let go enough to glare at all the people standing around. "Mister Abernathy is MY Daddy now. And I'm glad." In the fierce terms that only a toddler can deliver with. Then she goes back to wrapping herself around her newfound pillar of support.

"Daddy... m'glad I don't have to go back to Docter X. I think he... might be a bad man."

That was probably all for the better. Shrieking in Abernathy's ear was not a good way to make him happy. "You're welcome." The /I think/ remains ... unsaid. Having reservations now was not a very good thing to greet one's new ... daughter ... with.
Meanwhile, the people standing around look ... dutifully puzzled. Or outright shocked, in some instances. How had they imagined that this situation would be resolved? It might be better not to ask.
Another little 'mph', less of startlement and more of puzzled amusement, is Abernathy's answer to yet another glomping -- though this time he seems much less reticent about returning the hug, offering the support she's seeking right back. Her comment, though, makes him catch his breath and stifle his normal biting reaction to such an observation. She was, after all, only six. " ... Yes. Doctor X is ... a very bad man, Melissa." But it seemed that sometimes, even very bad men could do good things.
Finally, the Director disentangles himself from the insistant hug, resting his hand on his 'daughter's shoulders and giving her a searching look. " ... we should get you home," he declares, quietly. "And some new clothes. And to bed. It's rather late, after all."
The strange algebra of the heart ...


Now let's just see if he can live up to what's expected of him.

facelessmuse

Comments

[remliel.livejournal.com]

Pris is going to have the Reploid equivalent of a heart attack when he finds out about where Abby's daughter came from, you know.